“Huff—Huff—”
On a large island slightly away from the coast of Holy Egypt, the bitter north wind howled across the fjord, stirring up layers of white foam on the sea surface.
Long ships were quietly anchored in the depths of the bay, and the dragon heads carved on their prows made sounds like the roars of wild beasts in the wind.
That was the sound of the wind passing through the faucet, and the sound was like a demon from hell whispering something.
On the shore, a group of Vikings gathered around a campfire.
“These are not what we want.”
A bearded Viking warrior smiled rudely and threw away the cheap copper ornaments in his hand.
"What we want is gold, jewels, the gold from the southern continent!"
Another man raised a wooden cup filled with beer: "That's right!"
"The last time we plundered that Frankish town, we got nothing but a bunch of broken pottery jars, and I wasted three of my arrows!"
The bonfire crackled, and the rough faces of every Viking were illuminated by the firelight.
They drank heavily, laughed loudly, and occasionally struck the ground with their battle axes, expressing their resonance with each other.
This kind of gathering is their tradition.
On the eve of the battle, the men gathered together to sing, drink, and tell the legends of their ancestors and each other's battle achievements.
"The merchant we captured said there's a country in the south called Holy Egypt, where people worship idols made of gold, and every temple is filled with gold and silver treasures!"
"Ah, I know that place!"
"The last time Wulf led his men to plunder, they were completely annihilated by those Atlanteans!"
"Poor Ulf, even his body is missing!"
The man he was talking about was someone who led warriors without authorization and attempted to land on the coast of Holy Egypt.
Only a few of his warriors returned, bringing them news of the Atlantean cavalry.
The atmosphere suddenly became depressing.
Several people looked at the other side of the campfire at the same time. There sat a hunchbacked old man wearing a cloak embroidered with complex runes and holding a curved wooden staff in his hand.
She is the tribe's Full Moon Magician, once one of the most powerful warlocks, but now she has lost most of her magic power and even her appearance has aged rapidly.
The old man raised his head at this time.
"Northerners can tolerate failure, but cannot tolerate humiliation!"
A young warrior stood up suddenly, his iconic wolfskin hat sliding off with the movement.
"You're right! We Vikings are never afraid of fighting, let alone death!"
"The magicians of Holy Egypt have killed our compatriots and destroyed half of our Lord Warlock's magic power. Be prepared to bear our wrath!"
The other warrior analyzed the situation calmly.
"Moreover, Holy Egypt has now accumulated a large amount of gold."
When everyone heard this, their eyes lit up.
This is, of course, typical Viking thinking.
The Vikings, especially those who could use magic, had an almost perverted desire for gold.
In their worldview, the strong have the right to seize the property of the weak.
This is the law of God.
"Our warriors are ready!"
"I know a dozen young warriors who are eager to join this expedition. If we succeed, perhaps our names will be remembered!"
"It is our honor to be able to plunder the wealth of Holy Egypt!"
This pursuit of honor is the essence of Viking culture.
They believed that only by being brave and fearless on the battlefield and making great achievements could they be qualified to enter Valhalla after death.
The old magician slowly stood up.
"You can't rely on brute force alone. The magicians of Holy Egypt are proficient in all kinds of mysterious spells. You must be prepared."
He pulled a small amulet from beneath his cloak, engraved with strange runes.
"This is the Odin Rune passed down from our ancestors. It can resist the magic of some magicians."
"Every soldier who goes to war should wear one."
At this moment, a burly figure slowly walked out of the darkness.
That was Harald, King in the North.
"It seems my warriors are ready."
At this moment, many Vikings immediately bowed to express their respect to their leader.
"Yes, our king!"
"The debt of the Full Moon Archmage for destroying his magic power must be repaid, and the wealth of Holy Egypt should be enjoyed by true warriors!"
"They've seen through our original plan. Now, it's time to let them have a taste of the axe!"
Harald was silent for a moment, and then many strong Viking warriors appeared behind him.
They were covered in the furs of wild beasts, and the firelight shone on their strong muscles, making them look like demigods.
"Holy Egypt boasts a thousand-year-old civilization, and now possesses a vast army and powerful magic."
He then walked to the campfire, cut off a piece of meat with the dagger he carried with him, and threw it into the boiling pot.
"My brave warriors."
"What are our Viking traditions?"
"When we face a powerful enemy, do we retreat or advance bravely?"
Everyone answered in unison.
"kill!"
"kill!"
"kill!"
Harald smiled with satisfaction.
"Excellent, Viking warriors."
"Starting tomorrow, all tribes must immediately assemble all their troops and ships!"
"We want to build the most powerful Viking fleet in history, and we have only one goal."
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